


Devokahn Tsahno

by Naranek



Category: Myst Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naranek/pseuds/Naranek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sixteen year old Cecilia Basurto finds a strange book near her family's property.  Is she prepared for the family she meets on the other side?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU written under the theme "What happens if the Stranger arrives on Myst while the brothers are still children?"
> 
> Some of you might remember this work from Fanfiction.net. Yes, I am the same person. I am rewriting it as a challenge from some friends of mine.

The heat was enough to make the landscape buzz, boiling under the southwestern sun. Cecilia gazed across the sea of cracked earth and sagebrush to the cauldera on the horizon. Her destination. Sweat pooled at the bandannas on her brow and neck, her goggles sticking to her face. It was a long trek from her parents' house, but it was worth it. Her secret was worth it.

This area wasn't settled, wasn't bought, at least not as far as she knew. From the side of the dormant volcano, she had observed Indian tribes in the distance, but they never came near. Her father said it wasn't a sacred place, but all the same, it was avoided. No white men settled here. Perhaps they caught the natives' unease and kept away. Cecilia and her family were the closest white men in the area. But her parents were doing good work. God's work.

It was another hour before she reached the Crack at the base of the volcano. Well, that's what she called it, the gaping maw in the dirt. It was her secret place, full of caves and crannies, abandoned pots and tools. The Crack was long, but only perhaps fifteen paces wide, thin enough to block out most of the sun as she climbed down the creaking wooden ladder. Cecilia ducked into one of the “rooms.” Over the months she had brought blankets and other such homely things. She was grateful for them as she flopped down on the bed she'd set up on the ledge. Her sweat-soaked bandannas, socks, and shoes were thrown to the side, her goggles pulled down around her neck. Better. Out of her bag she pulled her journal, pen, and ink, and began to write.

 

_Mr. Moreno came to visit from town yesterday. Papa is getting more insistent about his proposal. I think they are already talking about marriage. Papa tries to convince me that it is a good idea, but I do not like Mr. Moreno. He gives me looks that I do not like. He treats me like I am already his possession. I tell Papa these things, but he tells me I should not worry._

 

A pause and a sigh, then,

 

_I do not want to get married now. Though I am sixteen and should be married already, I do not feel ready. And I certainly do not want to marry Mr. Moreno! He is fat and smelly! A fat and smelly, greedy little man! If he was not Papa's friend, I would tell him these things!_

 

Cecilia giggled and set her journal on the table to dry. It wasn't proper to say such things, but in her journal, and in her secret place, there was no propriety. True, Mr. Moreno has much money, but was it worth it? She didn't think so, but Papa wanted what was best for her. He wanted her to be taken care of. Cecilia couldn't blame Papa for that.

She pulled her canteen out of her bag and climbed down to the bottom of the Crack, where a spring made a pool of water that was always fresh. The grass that grew there was dotted with blue flowers. Both felt good against her bare feet. She kneeled at the edge of the pool and took water into her hands, drinking deeply before it escaped. Much better than the well at home that made her ill sometimes. 

She filled her canteen and went to stand, but something caught her attention. At the other end of the pool was a book, half buried in dirt. She crept to the other side and wriggled it out. It was an old book. It had been there a while. Cecilia brushed the dirt away from the cover, revealing the embossed word “MYST.” Cradling it in her arms, she made her way back up to her room, setting it on the rock table next to her journal. She flicked the cover open excitedly.

She gasped. On the page there was a small picture. But the picture... it moved!

“¡Dios mío!” she breathed. Cecilia watched as the picture panned over a small, beautiful island. Buildings, a ship, giant gears like in Papa's clock – just sitting on a hill! She'd never seen such a place before. Almost of its own volition, her hand moved and gently brushed the picture. Immediately she heard a rushing noise in her head and the world began spinning around her. Cecilia felt sick. As the world darkened around her, she slipped out of conciousness.


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecilia arrives at a strange new place, and meets the family that lives there.

It was the pain that woke her. A dull ache permeated her body, weighing her down as if her bones were made of iron. A smaller, stinging pain hovered just above her left eye. Cecilia scrunched her eyes and moved her head. More stinging. And a headache. She opened her eyes.

 

A room. She was in a room. In a bed, in a dim room. A beautiful quilt of many colours was spread out in front of her, with the edges of a cheery green blanket poking out just beneath her chin. The walls and the ceiling were are rich, dark wood, which complimented the lighter wood of the furnishings. It was lit by a lamp on a bedside stand who's light flickered and danced like flame, but there was no flame, nor could she make out the mechanism by which it operated - not without her glasses, in any case.

 

_It's all very homely_ , thought Cecilia, but panic was beginning to encroach upon her thoughts. Where was she? Who's place was this? It was not her home, for Papa made their home out of hay and mud bricks, nor was it Mr. Moreno's home, nor the doctor's...

 

She tried to wriggle out of the bed, but only managed so far as to sit up before the pain forced her to lean back against the headboard. Wherever she was, and however she got here, she had injured herself fairly well on the way. She checked her shoulders and arms. Her hands were scraped and her wrists ached, as if she broke her fall. Judging by the barely-healed cut she felt on her face, she didn't do a very good job. Cecilia also noticed that she was not wearing her clothes from earlier, but instead was wearing a long nightshirt that was made for someone much taller than she. It was made of a soft, sky blue material and was appropriately modest. She blushed. Someone must have changed her.

 

_Scritch scritch_

 

What was that noise?

 

_Scritch scritch_

 

_Rattle... rattle..._

 

Cecilia slowly turned her head. It was coming from the door. The doorknob rattled and turned, as if someone was trying to get in.

 

“H... Hello?” she meekly called out. “Is someone there?”

 

The rattling doorknob stopped for a moment, then resumed in earnest. She pulled her knees and her blankets up to her chin, as if they would stop whatever intruder wished to harm her. Finally, the door burst open and she shrieked and closed her eyes.

 

“Oh, sorry, miss!” said a small voice. Cecilia cracked one eye open, then the other. In front of her was a pile of boys – two boys, to be exact. They seemed to have fallen in and over themselves in their effort to break down the door. The older one stood and helped the younger one, still holding the tool used to pry off the screws, up off the floor. The older one was a mess of curls and bashful smiles, while the other was neat, very neat, and shy. Both peered up at her curiously, as if they had never seen a girl before.

 

“Hello miss, I'm Achenar!” stated the older boy, sticking out his pudgy, dirty hand, shaking vigorously when she accepted. “This is my brother, Sirrus!”

 

“Hello,” he said, barely a whisper, waving slightly from his position behind his brother. Cecilia giggled and relaxed slightly.

 

“Hello, Achenar and Sirrus. My name is Cecilia.”

 

“Cecilia,” Achenar rolled it around. “You have a funny accent. What Age are you from?”

 

“Age?”

 

“Your home.”

 

“Oh. I'm from Spain.”

 

“Spay-ne,” Achenar repeated. “Never heard of that place.” He turned to Sirrus. “Has father written a new Book? How come we haven't gone there yet?”

 

Sirrus just shrugged.

 

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded down the hall.

 

“Uh-oh,” said Achenar, bolting out of the room, dragging Sirrus by the hand and almost off his feet. Almost as soon as they were gone, a frazzled looking old woman appeared, balancing a plate of food, a washcloth, and a bowl of water.

 

“Sirrus! Achenar! What did I tell you about this room?” she shouted down the hallway. She stumbled over the broken pieces of doorknob as she entered. She grumbled and kicked them out of her way.

 

“Those boys!” she sighed, exasperated, setting her items on the bedside table. “How are you doing, dear?”

 

“F... Fine, I guess. I'm hurting a bit.”

 

“To be expected, you took quite a fall,” she said, dabbing the washcloth in water and wiping the cut on her face with it.

 

“Where am I?”

 

“In our home, on Myst Island. Don't worry, you're safe here. Now, what's your name, dear? Where are you from?”

  
“Cecilia, ma'am, and I'm from Spain. Well, we live at one of the missions north of Mexico now, but originally from Spain... are you alright, ma'am?”

 

The old woman had paled, but did not stop her ministrations. “Spain. That is a name I have not heard in many a decade.”

 

“Are you from Spain?” Cecilia asked excitedly. Maybe this woman could at least help her to her home country.

 

“No, I am not from Spain, but I am familiar with the Spanish settlers. Tell me, were did you live on this mission?”

 

“It was a ways away from major cities. The only landmark nearby was an old volcano. I wasn't supposed to go near there, but...” Cecilia trailed off, biting her lip.

 

The woman laughed, but it sounded strained. “I know what you mean, dear. The life of a woman in such an area is not very exciting. Was there... was there a... well, it was a certain place near there...”

 

“The Crack? The place with the water and the blue flowers?”

 

“Yes! That would be the place!” she said excitedly.

 

“How do you know of it?” Cecilia asked aloud. Then, a memory surfaced, of a paper she found burried under pots in one of the rooms, “Are... are you Anna? I found a paper with a woman's name on it...”

 

“Yes dear, I am Anna.” She seemed nervous, though. “If you excuse me, I must speak to someone. Please, eat.” She gestured to the plate of food, quickly scooped up the broken pieces of doorknob, and left, leaving the door open.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She must have fallen asleep again at some point, because Cecilia was being gently shook awake.

 

“Cecilia... Cecilia, wake up, dear...”

 

“Mmph,” she replied, cracking her eyes open. Anna was sitting on the bed next to her. Behind Anna, hovering uncomfortably near the door, was a man. He looked to be in his mid twenties, with soft, round features and warm eyes, with laugh lines that contrasted sharply with the worried expression on his face. His hands stayed firmly at his side, but occasionally fidgeted with the fabric of his pants.

 

Anna smiled, “I know you need your rest, and you still hurt, but we need to ask you some important questions.”

 

“All right...” Cecilia shuffled awkwardly into a sitting position.

 

“Now, tell us, from the beginning...”

 

Cecilia began. Her father once told her that no detail is unnecessary – even for simple questions. She told them about life in Spain, how her father heard the calling of God, and left his job as a lawyer to travel to a mission in the middle of nowhere in the New World, to spread the Bible to the native peoples three years ago. She found the Crack after a fight with her family over suitors. She ran away in the night, toward the volcano that no tribe settled near. She told Anna how they thought the spirit of a witch lived there, but she wasn't afraid of silly native stories. It was there she found the Crack. Over the next year, it became her refuge, the place she would go to escape the oppressive environment at home. The clean water, the blue flowers, the obvious signs of habitation. It was a secret world that was all hers.

 

“My father was talking to Mr. Moreno... they... I was going to marry him... I couldn't bear it!” Cecilia's face was red at sharing so many intimate details of her life with strangers, but all the pent up fear and disgust came poring out. “I ran to the Crack. I thought... maybe I could run away... live with the natives...”

 

“But how did you get here?” Anna asked.

 

Cecilia searched her mind... Mr. Moreno... the Crack.. water... then nothing.

 

“I don't know,” she felt the cut on her head. “Maybe I hit my head too hard. I just remember a feeling like I was falling, like when the doctor gives you ether.”

 

This seemed to spark something in the man.

 

“Was there a Book? Did you find a Book in that place?”

 

“Yes! A book!” The memory rushed back to her. “A book with a moving picture! I touched it, and then I fainted.”

 

Relief flooded through the man's face as he turned to Anna.

 

“He doesn't have it.”

 

This phrase made no sense to Cecilia, but Anna seemed to understand, and the same relief graced her features.

 

“Thank you, my friend,” he said to Cecilia, “You have delivered most fortunate news. Forgive me, I have not introduced myself. My name is Atrus.”

 

She smiled, “Atrus. It is good to meet you. But...”

 

“But?”

 

“When can I go home?”

 

Atrus sighed. “I am sorry, Cecilia, but the Book leading back to your home is lost. I'm afraid there is no way back.”

 

“Wh-What?”

 

“Don't worry, dear,” Anna interjected, “You may stay here, with us.” She shot Atrus a look that distinctly felt as though they'd already had this conversation before, and she wasn't going to let him argue.

 

“But...”

 

“No protestations, it will be fine. This can be your room. You've already met my grandson and my great-grandsons – Atrus, by the way, they broke another doorknob, that needs to be fixed – and we'll introduce you to Catherine, Atrus' wife.”

 

Cecilia wasn't sure, but Anna didn't leave much room for argument. It would seem as if this was her new home, for the time being.


End file.
